Tapestry
by Emilinia-sama
Summary: Moments are threads in a tapestry interweaving together. Many have nothing to do with one another, but they will all come together to form the greater image. These are but a few tiny threads no one knew. (OR! A series of drabbles based on my personal Wardens, Champion, and Inquisitor and their relationships with their love interests/companions.) Rated T in case.
1. Nicknames

**Tapestry**

Synopsis: Moments are threads in a tapestry interweaving together. Many have nothing to do with one another, but they will all come together to form the greater image. These are but a few tiny threads no one knew.

Details No One Cares About: These drabbles are based on my personal Wardens (Arilde and Arlyn Amell), Champion (Mellan Hawke), and Inquisitor (Aiden Lavellan) and their relationships with their love interests and companions. (Note: all characters are mages.)

Warnings: general fluff

**Nicknames**

M!Hawke/Fenris; Takes place after fleeing Kirkwall. Fenris focus.

"So this is snow." He'd never seen snow like this; thick and soft and blindingly white. Tevinter never got snow, and Kirkwall's snow was always thin and dirty and slick; a sheet of ice. But Ferelden's snow was less a sheet and more a blanket. He'd never had to squint just to look around before. Beside him, Hawke rolled over onto his back, a child-like grin set into his chiseled features, and flakes a striking contrast against his short dark hair, and ever-present stubble.

"Yep."

"It's…thick."

He heard his lover snort, "Mm-hmm."

"And cold."

"Sure is. But that's what happens when you don't wear boots." He had the distinct impression Hawke was laughing at him. And his shoe-less feet.

Still, Fenris ignored the jibe to his choice of attire (or lack thereof.) "There is something that's been bothering me though."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You call me Snow. When we're…alone."

Hawke grinned. "You're so cute when you blush."

Hawke gave a loud "Oof!" as Fenris fell over on top of the taller man, and he had to fight back a smug grin of his own. "Don't dodge my question."

Hawke coughed, "There was a question?"

"Why am I Snow?"

But Hawke's grin wouldn't be contained long. "Well, because you're so much fun to roll around in."

* * *

So, may I present my canon Hawke, Mellan? I love writing this guy; he's so much fun!

Thank you for reading, and do remember I own naught but my own ideas.

See you next time!


	2. Short

**Tapestry**

Synopsis: Moments are threads in a tapestry interweaving together. Many have nothing to do with one another, but they will all come together to form the greater image. These are but a few tiny threads no one knew.

Details No One Cares About: These drabbles are based on my personal Wardens (Arilde and Arlyn Amell), Champion (Mellan Hawke), and Inquisitor (Aiden Lavellan) and their relationships with their love interests and companions. (Note: all characters are mages.)

Warnings: general fluff

**Short**

No pairings. Takes place in Lothering, before darkspawn attack. Written in honor of the nameless Templar standing in the square voiced by Emeric Gideon.

Arlyn couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth; truly he couldn't. Perhaps it was because of the trauma from his and his sister's near-death experience. Perhaps it was his annoyance at their companions constant sniping and snarking at each other. Perhaps it was the left over adrenaline from fighting those bandits on the bridge. Whatever it was, once the words, "Aren't you rather short for a Templar?" left his mouth, he automatically regretted them.

Given Ari's hissed, "Lyn!" she felt the same way, after which she immediately she began to spout apologies on his behalf. Eventually, Arilde dragged them all away from the short Templar, whispering furiously in his ear, "We just barely escaped death once! Must you invite it from some random Templar who doesn't yet realize we're mages?!"

"You worry too much." Still, Lyn looked back once to make sure the short Templar didn't follow after to smite them. But the Templar was stalking off in the opposite direction Lyn and his companions were going, thankfully. Yet, Lyn found himself stopping and blinking at Ser Shorty; there must have been some strange glare coming from the setting sun, or something, because Lyn would swear the short Templar was glowing.

* * *

So, the story for this was I was going back through Origins to get a feel for Ari and Lyn, and I went up to talk to this templar standing in the square in Lothering, and it turned out to be voiced by Emeric Gideon! And i was all, "Holy shit, Fenris IS a templar!" And my mind, being wierd like it is, thought, he would TOTALLY DO THAT, just to get away from slavers, and such, so this is personal canon.

...I thought it was funny. XP

See you soon!


	3. Formal

**Tapestry**

Synopsis: Moments are threads in a tapestry interweaving together. Many have nothing to do with one another, but they will all come together to form the greater image. These are but a few tiny threads no one knew.

Details No One Cares About: These drabbles are based on my personal Wardens (Arilde and Arlyn Amell), Champion (Mellan Hawke), and Inquisitor (Aiden Lavellan) and their relationships with their love interests and companions. (Note: all characters are mages.)

Warnings: general fluff

**Formal**

Alistair/F!Amell, takes place while setting up camp

"Do all mages talk like you?"

Arilde looked up from gathering water and herbs by the stream over to her fellow Grey Warden. "Like me?"

Alistair gestured broadly; it was a habit Ari found both oddly amusing and adorable all at once. "You know, with large, six-syllable words, and poetic structures and…all formal and such?"

She focused on her tasks, trying to hide the small blush that threatened, "You believe I sound poetic?"

Alistair scratched the back of his head in a manner that might have been sheepish. "Well, yeah. Don't you?"

Arilde shrugged. "It is simply the way I talk. I do not mean anything formal of it, nor do I believe I sound particularly poetic, truly."

"Well, I think you do. You ever considered becoming a bard like Leliana? I bet you'd be good at it."

Arilde's hands froze, as she looked over to her companion. "You believe me suited for the work of a spy and assassin?"

"What?" She watched as Alistair first turned pale, and then bright red, and wondered if she shouldn't make a draught for his blood pressure. "No! I just meant…I, you know, I thought you'd be a very good…singer, or something. You know what, forget it."

"Oh, I see…" Damned blush… "Well, thank you for saying so. It's very kind of you, Alistair, but I'm afraid as good as I am at the piano," Arilde grinned impishly, "I cannot hold a tune for the life of me."

* * *

Meet Arilde (just Ari to her friends), my female Amell. So the piano thing...these four were originally going to be in an AU where they were all in a band, and Ari was in charge of the keyboard, but she REALLY couldn't sing (though Arlyn and Mellan can). As for the way Ari talks, well, it has alot to do with her personality, but mostly whenever I talk to characters in Origins, i find myself using long, over-wrought sentences, so that's mostly why she talks like that. She's also the Persuasive of the siblings, so...yeah, formality just comes naturally to her.

Anyway, See ya'll!


	4. No Way Around

**Tapestry**

Synopsis: Moments are threads in a tapestry interweaving together. Many have nothing to do with one another, but they will all come together to form the greater image. These are but a few tiny threads no one knew.

Details No One Cares About: These drabbles are based on my personal Wardens (Arilde and Arlyn Amell), Champion (Mellan Hawke), and Inquisitor (Aiden Lavellan) and their relationships with their love interests and companions. (Note: all characters are mages.)

Warnings: general fluff

**No Way Around**

Implied Lavellan/Solas; takes place on the Storm Coast; a little joke about how I end up using more potions healing broken ankles than battle wounds

"Hold still, lethalin." She had fallen again. Off a cliff this time, no less! The woman was out to drive him to distraction, at this rate. She had already used up half their supply of potions just to numb the pain of her obviously broken ankle. He and the others had deemed it wise to confiscate what was left and distribute it amongst themselves. Yet, here Solas was, using his portion of supplies to try and keep their oh-so-fearless leader from killing herself.

"Ow!" she winced, alabaster hair falling messily in her face, revealing the points of her ears. Long, even by elven standards.

"I swear I don't know how you ever got around without me here to patch you up constantly. Neither Dorian nor Vivienne are healers, and I imagine your Keeper must have grown very weary of you constantly falling out of trees or off rocks. I must imagine there were rivers you fell into as well..."

Aiden huffed, a strand of hair flying up from the breeze. "Oh, come off it, Sol! The cliff-side didn't look that steep."

"It is a _cliff_, lethalin."

"Not the point. Besides which, those bandits were getting away! I didn't have time to go find the beaten path again! They had my staff! Fen'Harrell take me before I just let someone make off with my staff, cliff-side be damned!"

A tendril of something that was almost guilt curled in Solas' stomach at that. "I'm not sure if such a statement worries me more or less..."

To his surprise, Aiden laughed, a deep ringing sound. "More, honestly. Cause just think, Sol," she grinned, a predator in the curl of her lips, that held him oddly fascinated, "if this is what I sacrifice for just my staff, imagine what I would do if something _really_ important was on the line."

* * *

So, yeah, my Lavellan has a tendency to...well, not really JUMP but slide down mountain faces she, perhaps, REALLY shouldn't. Also, she's kinda a bitch. I don't know if that really comes across here, but...well, just take my word for it, she is. Still lovable though (mostly).

See ya'll!


End file.
